Cosmic Love
by Faithfulakuma
Summary: No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight in the shadow of your heart. I was in the darkness so darkness I became. Negan/OFC.
1. Chapter 1

She's berating herself for running into the woods, _like a fucking idiot_. Granted, it had allowed her to live longer, only to _probably_ die at the hands of the walking dead and become one herself. Back pressed hard against a tree, hands grip the handle of the weighty aluminum baseball bat. Her skin is cold, ice cold, or so it seems and she feels like she's about to pass out. She freed one of her hands from the baseball bat and grasped at her shoulder, where blood just poured like a river. She applies pressure, trying to get it to stop bleeding, but is quick to grab the bat again upon hearing a branch snap behind her. She didn't have time for this. _Correction_ : she didn't have time at all, or she wouldn't, if she kept bleeding like this.

Lifting the bat and steadying herself, she spread her legs farther apart, as her mother had once instructed her to when swinging. Then, she swung hard and fast to the left of the tree. She felt the horrific tearing in her shoulder, no doubt the wound spreading open even further and she heard the sickening crack as the zombie's face collided with the heavy aluminum, nose and face cracking as it fell to the ground. She pulled the bat back and upward, despite the pain singing her nerves and brought the bat down on his face again, splattering zombie brains across the ground. Resting the bat beside the body, she lets herself rest for a few seconds, panting heavily. Her shirt was soaked in blood from her shoulder, but at this point, she couldn't feel it. That couldn't be good.

 _Crack_.

Head snapped up immediately and she lifted the bat, seeing that the group of zombies she'd been running from were still right close. She sighs and throws her head back, reaching up to brush hair away from her face. She couldn't keep going, not like this and she knew it. Still, standing around wasn't going to get her anywhere either. Hopefully, they'd get distracted by their zombie buddy's guts and that'd distract them a bit. She starts running again and she feels a bit of hope seeing a break in the woods ahead. She was _finally_ out of the woods, both literally and figuratively. Atop a hill overseeing a small valley, leading down to a dirt road. There seemed to be nothing for miles, but irregardless, she had to keep going, so she started down the hill towards the road.

Stumbling down the road, dragging her bat along with her, one hand on her shoulder, her vision is blurring and she's starting to feel more and more light-headed and dizzy. Her skin is cold, though not nearly as cold as she thought it was. She isn't really paying attention to where she's walking, or attempting to pick up her feet, and that's probably why her foot caught something (probably a rock beneath the dirt) and she fell to the ground, getting a facefull of the dirt. She knew she had to get up and keep going, but at this point, she'd exhausted all of her energy and for the most part, her _will_ to keep going. So she just rolled onto her side and made her peace with laying there to die. After all, death was the greatest adventure, right?

Headlights. The sound of an engine. What? _Since when did she believe that crap about accepting death and blah blah blah_? She can't even believe she thought that now that help _seems_ to be in sight, in _double sight_ actually. Seeing double probably wasn't good, but neither was having blood gushing from your shoulder and yet, here she was. She tries to lift an arm, to wave at them, to make herself visible on the side of the road, but it's too much. All she can do is move her shoulder and lift her arm a little before it flops back onto the ground.

 _This is it. You're gonna fucking die here. As far as you've come and you're done in by a single bullet. Fuckin' christ._

The sound of the engine roars to stop and she hears the brakes being put on, the tires coming to a stop right near her. She can feel the headlights on her face, and she spits dirt out of her mouth, turning her head towards the lights. She grabs the bat from her side and turns to face it, keeping her hand on the handle. If these people were bad news and she was gonna die, she would sure as hell go down with a fight. The passenger side-door opens and she can see through her hair a pair of dark combat boots. What sounds like an order is barked at the driver and the door slams shut. She shifts so that she's in a position to swing the bat if necessary. After the door shuts, she can see that the person is wearing a pair of light brown pants with a brown belt hanging loosely around their waist. As they approach, she forces herself to move onto her back so she can them more clearly. A black leather jacket leads into a red neck-warmer, which is wrapped snug around a strong neck which saw the end of a salt and pepper stubbled beard. He had a smooth, oddly angelic face aside from the stubble, with a broad nose and neat, black brows. Something is put in her face and she tries to focus on it, but fails; all she can see is what appeared to be barbed wire and that alarms her enough. She scoots back, coughing more dirt up, trying to lift up the baseball bat she held.

"Honey, you're too _fucked up_ to fight me. I wouldn't try it if I were _fuckin'_ you." His voice is guttural and dominant, making her feel almost-ashamed for looking directly at him, as if he was a God and she wasn't worthy of even looking upon his face. It was so strange a feeling: subjugation. One she hadn't felt in this way before. Sure, in society, men had been placed above women, but never was there a clear-cut submission. And yet, underneath the stare of this man, she felt beneath him, not just physically, but in every sense there could possibly be.

"I-I..." _don't care_ , she finished in her head, now putting her efforts to standing up. She got up from her laying position, on her hands and knees, and dragged the baseball bat to her side, lifting it to an upright position, using it as support for the time being. He appeared surprised, or even impressed, that she had sat herself up but remained firm where he stood. Now that she was upright, she could see that he, too, was holding a baseball bat, a wooden one wrapped in barbed wire and already covered in blood. Likely zombie blood, but with the vibes she was getting from this man, she wouldn't put killing humans past him either.

"I'm impressed that you're still able to stand with, uh, that _fucking_ **hole** you got in your shoulder. How long you had it?" She wasn't obligated to answer his questions and surely he had to know that, but he also probably knew he was her only savior at this point and for some odd reason, she felt as though she _owed_ him answers. Swallowing her pride for the sake of her _life_ , she adjusted her position, sitting back on her feet, muscles tired of holding the position.

"A c-couple miles, I think." She answered, letting her head bow after answering. She awaited an answer, but was hardly surprised when none came. A heavy breath came from her as she heard the dirt crunch as he seemed to be walking away. She looked up, watching as he walked back to the truck where he had come, opened the door, barked another order she didn't know, and hopped in. She watched as they kept going, kept driving _right past her_. Helplessly, she fell back to where she'd been laying and let herself drift off again. Yeah, life's a bitch and then you die.

* * *

A groan as she felt herself coming to. Wait, she wasn't dead? Or maybe she was dead and this what waking up as a zombie is like. If that was the case, it felt like a major hangover.

"Am I dead?" She doesn't even know if anyone's there. Surely, she's still on the side of the road...except, it doesn't feel like it. In fact, she seems to be on something rather soft, comfortable and clean.

"No, you're not dead, though you came quite close." The fact that she's being answered is surely an indication that she's both not dead, as the speaker indicated and also not on the side of the road dying anymore.

"W-where am I?" She opens her eyes, fluttering them several times as she adjusted to the light in the room. It was like waking up, that is, if everytime you woke up, you felt like you'd been shot, obviously.

"You're at the Sanctuary. Negan saved you. Don't move or speak too much, you're still in bad shape." She closes her eyes again, giving a heavy sigh, and moving her head to a more comfortable position.

"Negan? He that guy in the leather jacket with the baseball bat?" She asked, quirking her eyebrows but keeping her eyes closed.

"Yeah, that would be him." He answered.

"Hm." Is the simple response before she drifts off again, too exhausted to stay awake. It felt like it had been days since she slept and in reality, it probably had been. Not only that, but with losing as much blood as she had, her body was trying to replenish oxygen lost and heal, which required rest. Still, she was curious about the man she'd met on the road. He had acted like he was a **God** and he sure seemed to believe it, too: walking away from her then turning around and saving her like that. It kinda pissed her off, if she was honest. Then again, a lot of things did, especially this whole damn apocalypse thing. She just wanted to go back to the way things were: just awful politics.


	2. Chapter 2

After taking a little cat nap to catch up on the sleep she'd lost and at least get to the point where she didn't feel like passing out, she decided to explore. When she awoke, she found herself alone and was quick to leave the room, wanting to know more about this _Sanctuary_. She was partially surprised she wasn't restrained, considering that she was a stranger and all. Granted, they'd taken her weapons from her, so what harm could she really do? She exited what appeared to be the infirmary and followed a long hallway with a light at the end. She carefully opened the door and stepped out and shielded her face, eyes adjusting to the bright light. It felt like she hadn't been _outside_ in forever but she knew better. Well, technically, she didn't know how long she'd been out, but it definitely hadn't been forever. It's then that she realizes she's barefoot and she groans both aloud and internally, turning to enter the building again.

"So you're awake, _princess_. Shouldn't be wandering around, though, quite the wound you had. Lucky we found you when we did." The familiar voice interrupted her and she withdrew her hand from the doorknob, turning to face the speaker. It was _him_ again, standing on the edge of the porch, just at the top of the stairs and about a few feet from her. He didn't have the bat with him, which surprised her a little. Again, she had to remind herself she probably wasn't considered dangerous, lacking weapons.

"I'm fine. Thanks." She says flatly, shaking her head. Her shoulder **was** starting to ache, but she wasn't about to admit it. That was like telling your mom you were cold after she specifically told you to take a coat with you and no child ever did that. She again felt that submissive sensation creep into her, seeming as though it started at her feet and spread upwards and she quickly turned from him, looking out at what appeared to be a camp. Soft brown eyes drifted from building to building, never staying in the exact same place. Just like the man across from her, Negan, right? She turned to him, again and jumped a little, finding he had drawn closer to her. She didn't meet his eyes or look at his face (he was kinda taller than her so that made it easier).

"Mhm and you are..." He licked his lips. She, of course, noticed the lecherous gesture and stepped away, but found her back meeting one of the pillars of the porch. An anxiety crept into her, and she looked to the side as he approached her, close enough that she could feel his breathe upon the side of her face and neck. She could feel him looking at her, no, _staring_ at her and she was more than uncomfortable with it. Sure, it could be worse: he could be unattractive, but even if he was attractive (which he was), she still wasn't interested. He went to lean into her even more and she placed a hand on his chest, stopping him.

"Thanks for saving me, really, but uh I'm not a whore. I'm sure I can repay you in another way." _Creep_. She wanted to call him that, she did, but she was sure it wouldn't go over well if she did so she refrained. Amazing, her showing restraint. _If her family could see her now!_ Blood rushed in anticipation, awaiting his response, which seemed to be nothing. He remained where he had been stopped by her, breathing steadily and then his reaction came, slow and calm. He inhaled, presumably her scent, which she could imagine wasn't too good. He, however, seemed to like it as he withdrew and grinned, closing his eyes and enjoying the scent as it filled his nostrils and seemed to surround him.

"Mhm. That's too bad. You smell sweet as honey. I'd love to bed ya." _But ya gotta want it_ , he finished in his own head, opening his eyes. They were dark with lust (obviously) and something else that even he didn't know. He backed away, letting her skuttle out of the space he backed her in, and watched as she instead backed herself against the door she'd just come through. He smirked. She was a bit jumpy and nervous and he was curious as to why, but he was sure if he asked, at least right now, that she wouldn't give him an answer. After all, at this point, they were basically strangers. Oh, right...she didn't even know his name!

"I'm Negan." He states, giving a charismatic grin and a confident swing of his hips as he shifted his weight from one to the other. He held his hands out, as if presenting a present or a God, and well to him, he probably was and that more than irritated her. Regardless, she tried her best not to show it. She gave a little smile, trying her best despite being both socially awkward and injured, and even gave a mini-curtsy.

"I'm Lilly." She says, awkwardly holding out a hand before taking it back and brushing a dark black hair from her face and tuck it neatly behind her ear. He appeared to notice her awkward demeanor and take a few more steps back, thinking it would help. It didn't. He turned and held an arm out, gesturing to the many buildings she's been looking at before.

"This is the Sanctuary. I run this place." He says and she slowly moves to join him at looking out at it, shuffling to his side. "Everyone has a job here and it gives them a place here. You, too, will have a place here, I'm sure of it." He grins, and it's a bit sinister as she can sense some ulterior motives but she doesn't say anything. After all, if he was the man in charge of this place, she couldn't go saying anything to piss him off or upset him or she may not get out alive. Plus, he'd saved her life. She _owed_ him.

"I'm good with my hands. I can fix things." She says suddenly, glancing at him and then down at the porch. He grins and shifts, swinging his hips again. It seemed to be a thing he always did, a part of his _swagger_ , as they would say before the apocalypse began. She watched as he started down the steps of the porch and she raised her eyebrows. He turned, and raised his hands above his head.

"Well, you comin' or what?" He asked, hands dropping to his sides in exasperation.

"Uh, yeah. Where are we going? Thought you said I shouldn't be wandering around." She says, coming after him quickly before stopping. "Wait, I need shoes."

"Go get your damn shoes and fuckin' hurry up! I'm gonna give ya a fuckin' tour of the place. You're not wanderin' around, you're gettin' a tour! Hurry the fuck up!" She did as she was bade and practically ran back inside (what appeared to be) the infirmary and found that she had missed her shoes and socks just another the bed and was quick to put them on before rushing outside, practically taking the steps of the porch two at a time and sliding into place beside Negan. She really didn't want to piss of her Savior, especially if he was going to offer her a place here.

"So, obviously, you were just in the fuckin' infirmary. That over there is the cafeteria, of sorts. We'll come back there for some food because you look like you haven't eaten in a fuckin' week." He looked her up and down as if to make his point and she paused, looking down at herself. Sure, she was thin, but she always had been, especially when growing up. Brows knit together and she looked up at him.

"You body-shamin' me?" She asked, raising one brow.

"No." He says quickly and flatly, immediately shooting down the idea. "Just sayin' that you need to fuckin' eat."

 _Yeah, whatever_.


End file.
